


The Blood on His Hooves

by thatmagicmutt



Category: Quest for the 8th Realm
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatmagicmutt/pseuds/thatmagicmutt
Summary: Dr. Rodger Harriet Pyston was Shadaria’s most respected surgeon. He never failed a patient in his entire career. This is his story told from his point of view: the story of how the greatest surgeon in the 7 Realms became a deranged serial killer.
Kudos: 2





	1. Christmas Eve

No one is born with an evil heart. Evil makes its way into one’s heart over time, causing a person to do things they never would have done without that painful push. The agonizing, yet satisfying rush of adrenaline coursing through the veins of someone who’s done something unimaginable. The thrill of knowing you’re going mad, and the terrorizing knowledge that you can do nothing to prevent it.

—  
December 24, 1985  
—  
The first Christmas I remember was my 5th. I had stayed up all night, too anxious to fall asleep, yet tired from all the excitement from the annual Christmas party hosted in my childhood home.  
I hadn’t rested for over 24 hours, but I was still awake. The snow drifted down from the sky gently, and the feeling of comfort and joy was all around. Children playing in the snow, building snowmen and women with their snow pets. I had always wished to play with other kids, though I was never allowed to.  
I had learned to read from an early age. I was speaking full sentences by the age of 2, and I was reading long chapter books by the time I turned 4. I loved reading, and I always have. In fact, it was very uncommon to see me without my nose in a book.  
Because of this, other kids pushed me away, saying I was too weird all while calling me names. The most common were “bookworm”, “nerd”, and “dimwit”, though there were many more. I paid mind to those comments, but I never let it show.  
Eventually, the streets went silent and dark. The only light came from the moon and its reflection upon the freshly powdered snow, giving everything a blue tint. Everything always had a blue tint in Lorinanthia, though it was because of the power this Realm was given.  
Lightning magic courses through the indigenous Lorinanthians, and from within the plants and creatures that live here. I myself am indigenous to the Realm, but I rarely used my Lorin magic for anything.  
My father was Lorinanthian, but my mother was Shadarian-Flangaritous, which resulted in the unique combination of magical powers called Shada-Lorin. This meant that I had the ability to use both Shadow magic and Lightning magic, but that I carried the recessive gene for Fire magic.  
Eventually, I drifted off to sleep after having stayed awake for nearly 32 hours straight.


	2. Christmas Day

—  
December 25, 1985  
—  
The silky sound of my mother’s soft voice woke me up the following morning. She always sounded somewhat distressed, but her expression never showed that her heart was burning with pain. It worried me, the sound of the hidden pain behind her soothing tone. The almost invisible agony hidden behind her loving gaze.  
“You have a gift waiting for you under the tree, darling,” her honey-like voice mumbled in my ear. “Please go get it before your father wakes up….”  
Just like my mother, who hid her fear and pain behind a soft and caring personality, my father hid behind a mask. Normally, he was very compassionate, always helping our neighbors with everything with a cheery attitude. Once inside, the soft crying from my mother’s throat and the sounds of punches were all that could be heard. Never from the outside, though, so nobody except me knew the truth. My mother often wore long sleeves and pants to hide the bruises from the nights she would be beaten. Despite all she went through, she still loved that wretched man. I never understood why until I was much older.  
The gift was placed in a brown paper bag under the dying tree standing in the main room. I grabbed it quietly and snuck back to my room, where my mom remained sitting on the edge of my bed with a smile on her face.  
“You can open it, love.”  
It was an unusual book, not like any that I’d read before.  
“‘The Beginners Guide to Medical Practices’…?”  
“You’ve always loved seeing those doctors at work in the hospital, so I figured you’d want to read this.”  
It was true. I loved the sound of the beeping coming from the rooms, clarifying that those people were still living and thriving. The white coats, the needles on the ends of the syringes, everything.  
“Thank you, mama,” I mumbled quietly while hugging her. Her small, gentle hands wrapped themselves around me, bringing the comfort of Christmas to both of us.  
That hug wasn’t the first time I had felt her true feelings. The underlying sting of regret and resentment made its way into the comforting feeling, scarring the merry holiday emotions like a scorpion.


	3. Valentine’s Day

—  
February 14, 1986  
—  
An unusual feeling was in the air, one that I hadn’t felt before. This was the first time I had been outside of that house, the one with the echoes of beatings and bruises accompanied by the overwhelming hatred and rage.  
People all around were holding hands and hugging in a loving manner. Even my mother and father intertwined their fingers together lovingly, or at least giving the appearance of love.  
Stores were filled with sweets and hearts, and the strong scents of various chocolates filled the air. It was Valentine’s Day.  
I’ve always disliked that day. It was the day I was conceived, and I knew that it was a one-sided agreement. My mother told me that when I was very young, warning me to never cross my father. I took her advice for as long as he lived. Never interfered when he beat my mom, never talked back, never did something I was told not to. Life was good for me, but the guilt of not speaking up and saving my mother is one of my biggest regrets.  
Soon, the scent in the air began to sweeten with the hormonal changes that come after dusk. Couples went inside, making their bedrooms sickeningly sweet with pheromones. I was 5 at the time, but knew everything about reproduction. I had read the entire book I had gotten for Christmas the year prior.

Soon, my parents started heading back to our old house as well. The sweet scent from my father, and the bitter scent from my mother. She was scared, but despite that she kept a warm smile on her face.  
That night, I laid awake in my bed with tears streaming from my eyes, burning my cheeks. My mom screaming softly and crying while my dad called her horrendous names. I had developed an indescribable feeling of resentment for that man, and at age 5 I had my first maliciously harmful thought.  
I wanted that man dead. It didn’t matter how, I just longed to protect my mother, to be her knight as she was my queen.


	4. Midsummer Festival

—  
June 25, 1986  
—

Summertime rolled in as fast as a cheetah bolting at full speed. The heat was never too much for the residents living in that little town placed almost perfectly in the center of Lorinanthia. Sounds of happy music and cheerful laughter rang in my ears. Dancing and playing, joking and singing, everyone was doing their part to make the Midsummer Festival as welcoming as possible to visitors from other Realms. The town was filled with unusual smells of new foods and different magic.  
As colorful and upbeat as this Festival was, I had no one to celebrate it with. I walked alone, and nobody noticed me for a while until I accidentally bumped into a young girl.  
“I-I’m s-s-sorry!!”  
“Oh, it’s alright!! Hey, you’re not dressed up at all,” she said, concerned and confused. It was true, I wasn’t dressed up for the event. I had nothing to wear for it, anyhow, I just wanted to see and smell everything.  
“I-I’m not b-big on dressing up f-for s-stuff like this….”  
“You should try it sometime!! Here, come with me!!”  
“Ah!!”  
The girl grabbed my hand and pulled me over to a stand that sold flower crowns and accessories. She asked the man behind the counter for one that suits me, and he handed her one with yellow and orange sunflowers.  
“Huh–!!” I exclaimed as she suddenly put it on my head.  
“Perfect!! You look great– uh, I never got your name….”  
“R-Rodger…. M-my name is R-Rodger…” I told her quietly.  
“Nice to meet ya, Rodger!! I’m Winnie!! You’re pretty shy, huh??”  
“Y-yeah….”  
“Don’t ya have any friends, Rodger??”  
“N-no….”  
At this point, I suspected that she started to feel bad for asking questions that seemed to upset me. Winnie’s flaming orange eyes met my icy grey ones. The wind blew a little bit, and the world seemed to go silent for only a moment. A woman’s voice called out Winnie’s name, signaling for her to return to them. Flustered, I looked away and thanked her for being so nice to me.  
“No problem, Rodger…!! And, hey,” she grabbed my hand gently and looked me in the eyes, “we’ll meet again someday, right??”  
“R-right…!!” I hesitated a bit. She hugged me quickly, but it was long enough for me to inhale her scent. The sweet aroma of cookie batter and sugar filled my nostrils and lungs.  
I watched longingly as she trotted off to her parents. Winnie’s father seemed kind and caring, and her mother hugged them both lovingly. Yearning for that kind of love, my heart seemed to beat with both longing and pain.  
For a moment, I felt angry when I saw the family. I had waited for so long to be a part of such a loving family, and it sickened me to see one right in front of me.  
A gentle hand on my shoulder pulled me out of the anger and rage.  
“Honey, be careful…. You almost shocked me….”  
The Lorin magic in my blood, my DNA, finally started to make its presence known. I gazed at the blue electricity surrounding the tips of my fingers, mesmerized by the newfound power at my disposal. I remember turning my head slowly and staring into my mom’s soft, grey gaze as the magic dispersed.  
“I c-can protect you now, M-Mommy….”


	5. Halloween

—  
October 31, 1986  
—

Fear. Of course, those who ran in the streets dressed as witches and skeletons never knew what true fear was. At the age of 6, no child should ever fear for their life.  
My parents had agreed to let me go outside this year, with a costume, too. The smell of new fabric entered my nostrils, making me cringe at its scent. The extra legs hanging off of the cosplay made it obvious that I was dressed as a spider.  
They sent me out alone, though my mother voted against the idea. It had been nearly 5 months since I had known the scent of fresh air, but the aromas of candy and costumes covered the natural scents of plants and flowers.  
It sickened me. Shoving candy down their throats, chocolate glaze covering their lips and sugar in their bloodstream. The antonym of healthy made it hard to keep my dinner in my stomach. Stomach acid rising up in my esophagus, making me run behind a nearby building to let it escape from my mouth. Gasping for air, though the acid didn’t stop pouring from my throat. When it did, I froze. My brain processed what happened, then I laughed. I laughed quietly, but insanely. Nobody knew. Nobody heard. Just me.  
After kicking some dust up over my vomit, I walked back out into the busy street. I was hungry, and my stomach was empty. The candy wasn’t appealing, nor was anything, really. But a sudden urge to lunge at the nearest person and rip their flesh out, then swallow it and dive back for more came over me.  
Self-control. I never lunged at anyone, but kids did make fun of me.  
“You should’ve dressed up as a zombie since you always look like one!!” a kid shouted at me, laughing with his friends. I didn’t respond, I just kept walking.  
Fairly soon, there was no one around. It was just me and the nature around me. I was so very hungry, and a 6-year-old would do anything for food.  
I spotted a small rabbit-like creature. A baby Jack-a-lope. I walked up to the baby and pet it gently.  
“Are y-you hungry…?”  
The baby seemed to agree with me, nodding its petite head. I grinned eerily.  
“Me, t-too….”

There was no scream. Blood dripped down onto the ground. The soft crunching of raw meat was the only thing that broke the silence.  
I was lucky to have gotten no blood on the costume, and the blood didn’t stain my white fur. The taste of blood filled my mouth and made me crave it even more, but I held back.  
I never did that again. Guilt washed over me that night. That baby probably loved its mother, just like I loved mine.


	6. First Day of Winter

—  
December 22, 1986  
—

This was the last time I had written in my diary, which is what you were reading this whole time. However, I modified the words so that they weren’t that of a child’s, but rather of a more sophisticated person. Now, I must say that there was an accident in my life that caused me amnesia, which resulted in 5 years of my life disappearing from my memories. I can remember this final event, but my life picks up after I turned 11. Tragic that I don’t remember those 5 years, but I don’t know if it is truly tragic or not.

On this day, this first day of winter in the year 1986, an immense grief scarred our lives. A dark, tragic loss experienced by the entire town. The loss of my mother and her secret boyfriend, who both died at the hands of a monster.  
Evening had just begun when I had heard muffled screams coming from the basement.  
“Damn bitch, I said be QUIET!!” my bastard father’s voice shouted quietly, followed by a loud smack. After slipping on some hoof mufflers, I trotted downstairs to the living room only to find everything tidied up. The overwhelming feeling of knowing there was no struggle until she was in the basement made me smile hysterically.  
I made my way to the kitchen briefly, then back to the living room. A hidden door was located behind the bookshelf, which revealed the path to a dark, damp stone hallway that reeked of sadness and anger. Each step I took was completely inaudible.

“You thought you could run away with that son-of-a-bitch and take MY son with you, you fucking whore?!”  
A whip cracked and my mom yelped in pain. Watching from around the corner, I was infuriated. Not only did he abuse my mother for almost my entire life at that point, but he had the audacity to refer to me as “his” son.  
My hand gripped the large butcher knife steadily as I walked out from behind the corner. A 6-year-old shouldn’t ever have to witness the details revealed when I rounded the corner. Come to think of it, no child should have to see their mother being abused, nor their father being abused. No child should EVER witness abuse, nor be a part of the abuse.  
There was a dead man with a hole in his chest. Deep orange blood dripped from the hole and ran down to the floor, creating a pool of blood around him. My mother was tied to a chair that had been bolted to the ground. In that old bastard’s palm was the bright orange heart of the man my mother had fallen in love with. That dead man on the ground, Derek Auburn, was a man of honor. A royal guard for the Lorinanthian Kingdom. He treated me like his own son, with love and respect and genuine care. Now, his life was gone.  
I watched my father squeeze his heart, my mom screaming with immense emotional pain as orange blood splashed her face.  
“Cry, bitch, he’s gone. You have nothing to—”  
“TO WHAT?!” I shouted, a grim smile on my face. I laughed hysterically, as though I was losing my mind.  
“Rodger, my boy, I—”  
“Don’t you ‘my boy’ me, bastard. Don’t you know I want you DEAD?! I’VE WANTED YOU DEAD FOR YEARS, HA HA!!”  
As a 6-year-old, I was rather lanky. A slim build I inherited from my mother, but a strength I inherited from my father.  
“RODGER, NO!!” my mom screamed fearfully.  
“Mother, I love you dearly, and you mean the world to me,” I turned my head towards my father, “but I can’t let this asshole hurt us any more than he already has.”  
In a pure, rage-driven leap across the room, I used the knife to stab my father. The only mistake I made was missing his stomach and stabbing his liver instead. The liver can regenerate over time. I was hoping to puncture his stomach, letting the acid flow throughout his body. A painful demise, and I wish I had done it right the first time.  
He pulled the knife out with a painful grunt, then held it to my mother’s throat.  
“HAH!! You seriously thought you could kill me?! What a fucking JOKE!!” With the last word, deep blue blood splattered the wall behind me, as well as the front side of my body. My mother’s icy grey-blue eyes gave one last painful look into mine, still filled with complete and genuine love for me, before they went dull and lifeless.  
“What now, useless fuck?! She’s dead, you have no hope.”  
With a quick dodge, I slid under him and let him hit the wall behind me. I screamed as I ran up the basement stairs. He knew what I was doing and he chased after me frantically, making attempts to stop me as I ran out of that hauntingly damp hallway.  
The only reason I’m still alive is because I made it out of the front door before he had the chance to catch up to me.  
“HELP!!!!! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!!!!! H-HE KILLED HER!!!!! M-MY MOM IS D-DEAD!!!!!”

A police investigation found my father 100% guilty of 1st degree murder. He was sentenced to life in the royal dungeon.  
“Hey, kiddo,” an officer said. His voice was calm, as were his light lavender eyes.  
“H-hey….”  
“I’m sorry that you witnessed all of that…. People like him are terrible, that’s why we wanted to thank you for being so strong.”  
“S-strong…?”  
“Yeah, because of it weren’t for you, he would have killed a lot more people…. Thank you, little buddy. You saved more lives than you know.”

I looked down and saw bright blue blood spotting the pure white snow around me. All I did was cry. I wanted my mom so badly. To be in her loving embrace just one more time. To smell her sweet, loving scent just one last time. I would have given my life just to hear her say, “I love you so much, Rodger, never ever forget that,” in that soft, caring tone of her’s one more time…. Just one more time….

She was gone, though, and she wasn’t coming back. Her esophagus and trachea had both been slashed open. An irreparable wound leaving her lifeless. As for Derek Auburn, his heart was found on the ground 4 feet away from his body, crushed and mutilated. The hole in his chest left him both lifeless and heartless. Death is irreparable.

The town mourned the loss of Derek Oran Auburn and Mallie Rosweld Pyston-Yorker, 2 beautiful souls lost at the hands of Rodger Hatchet Pyston. The name I was given at birth was the name of that wretched bastard, but while I kept that name, I later decided I would go by Rocky, a kinder name with an upbeat feeling to it.

The name “Rodger” is the one I say now to the victims who die within my grasp. The abusers, the cheaters, the liars. All of them. My name will go down in history as the greatest street-cleaner across the 7 Realms, once I’ve rid the streets of all the filthy sinners. My son would have lived in a perfect world….

If it weren’t for that one evening….


	7. 6th grade

—  
September 15, 1992  
—

I had been in the foster care system for nearly 5 years. No one wanted me, not even classmates saw me fit to be their friend. A deer treated like a lone wolf, as it had been my entire life.  
I was 11 years old on my first day of my 6th grade year, which I had assumed wouldn’t last long at the school. The family I was with was very kind, and they had no children of their own. My foster dad loved to play catch with me and take me fishing, and my foster mom took me clothing shopping and to the pet store often.  
It was with this family that I fell from the balcony when I was 10, which caused my skull to crack completely open. My brain could be seen in between the cracks in my skull, at least from what I had been told by the paramedics. They also told me that I had grossed many of them out because, while I was dazed and confused, I was poking my fingers through the cracks in my skull in an attempt to touch my own brain. I apparently had to have my hands tied behind me and be put under anesthesia while on the way to the emergency room.  
The surgery was successful, but I lost all of my memories from the past 5 years before that. I remember crying because I had thought that my mom’s funeral was that next week, but I was informed that that memory was lost and that her funeral was 5 years prior.

I was used to being bullied.  
“Hey, where’s your antlers??” was a frequent question people asked me, too. I had been neglected for a long time, which stunted my growth a slight bit. It wasn’t stunted forever, though, but I did go through puberty later than I was supposed to.  
“I think he’s kinda cute, and that the lack of antlers makes him look girly!!”  
“Maybe he is a girl and he’s just pretending.”  
“Hey!! What’s in your pants?!”  
My classmates mocked me from the very first day of middle school. I often liked to draw severed limbs in my notebooks, claiming that “I-I love drawing g-g-gore, it’s just s-s-something I’ve always l-liked d-drawing.”

“Wh-what was that, d-d-deer?! Ha ha!!”  
“You sound like a damn idiot, you should learn to speak properly.”  
“I-It’s a m-m-medically d-diagnosed s-s-stutter…” I told the 3 boys who cornered me behind the school after class ended.  
“Go fucking die, we don’t need illiterate mistakes like YOU here.”  
“Especially since you don’t even belong here, Lorin bitch.”  
It was true, I was a Lorin sorcerer, but I was living in Pyronia, the Fire Realm. At the time, Lorin magic was discriminated against by Pyro magic wielders.  
I returned home on the first day of school with a black eye and a fractured rib. I didn’t show any signs of pain, but my foster parents still rushed me to the hospital in a panic. I never went back to school after that because they decided to homeschool me.

Those boys still found me whenever I would walk to the stores or even just to the lake. I was beaten up frequently because of my magic, and while I had no idea why they always went that far, I didn’t question it. I didn’t necessarily care, until I saw the effects it was having on my foster parents when the medical bills started piling up.

“Look, boys,” the familiar voice called out behind me. I was crouched down by the water, looking at the frogs swimming.  
“Wh-what do you w-want?” I asked, standing up and turning around.  
“For you to go back from where you CAME FROM!!” He pushed me backwards into the water with the last 2 words. I shouted briefly, then was submerged under the murky water. My head broke the surface and I gasped for air for a few seconds. They were all laughing at me.  
“He can’t even swim—!!”  
“I-I can s-s-swim, asshole.” I was already back on the shore of the lake. My eyes were filled with anger.  
“Oh, he’s back!!”  
“Y-you have n-no idea h-how m-m-much t-trouble you’ve c-caused my p-parents. Y-you’re insensitive a-and a-arrogant.”  
“B-b-but you have nothing to use against us,” the lead boy mocked me, scoffing. My fist met his nose in an instant, breaking it with a loud crack. He fell on his butt, bleeding from his nose and crying, “IT HURTS!! IT HURTS!!”  
“G-good. It’s s-s-supposed t-to,” I said with a somewhat hysterical grin.  
“YOU’RE SICK!!” one of the boys shouted, running away from me pathetically and fearfully.

“Whoa!! That was cool!!” an unfamiliar voice rang out from a few feet away from me. I turned my head only to see a young fox around my age wagging his tail in awe. He had big, round glasses on, which seemed to enlarge his already big yellow eyes. The fox was wearing a white collared shirt with a brown and autumn-orange argyle sweater over it, along with a pair of dark brown corduroy pants. His hair was blonde with a few platinum blonde streaks. It was untamed and wavy, somewhat like my hair, except I had white hair with a few icy blue streaks that I had inherited from my mother.  
The boy looked into my eyes excitedly for a few moments before clearing his throat and holding out his hand to me.  
“Ah, sorry!! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Scott!!”  
“I-I’m R-Rocky, b-but my real n-name i-is R-R-Rodger…” I replied, shaking his hand. “J-just call m-me R-Rocky….”  
“You got it–!! Whoa– oof!!” he exclaimed as he tripped over his own paws. Scott started mumbling things like, “You’ve just embarrassed yourself again, Scott,” and, “Why am I so clumsy all the time…?”  
I held out my hand to help him up. “Hey,” I said calmly, “you’re n-not the o-only one with a-a p-problem th-that m-m-makes you a-an o-outcast…. I-I mean, I-I have this s-s-stutter…!!”  
Scott grabbed my hand and I pulled him up. He fell into my arms, but didn’t move for about 7 whole seconds before he backed up suddenly.  
“U-uh, yeah!! I guess we’re not all that different, huh…?” As he said that, I noticed his cheeks had started to turn somewhat greenish tone. He seemingly noticed this, too, because he quickly turned his head away so I could no longer see him blushing.  
“Y-you okay, S-Scott…?” I asked quietly. Scott simply nodded, then turned away from me and mumbled to himself a little bit before turning back around to face me.  
“Yeah, I’m okay!! I was just zoned out, ha ha…!! Y’know, ADHD, ha ha…!!” Scott was saying as he slowly backed away, embarrassed. He paused before he walked away to ask, “Hey, wanna hang out sometime?? We could be friends!!”  
The word rang in my head. “Friends.” Scott wanted to be my friend.  
“Y-yeah!! O-of c-course!!” I responded cheerfully. Scott wagged his tail and skipped away happily.

Scott and I hung out at the lake every day after school for the entirety of our 6th grade year. He had told me that those boys bullied him, too, because he wasn’t as powerful as them.  
“Th-that’s dumb,” I told him, skipping a rock along the surface of the water.  
“Why’d they bully you, Rocky??”  
“W-well…. I-I’m not f-from here….”  
He gasped, then asked excitedly, “What kind of magic do you use?!”  
After a short pause, I held out my finger so it was pointing to the sky, then I let a flicker of lightning spark at the tip of my finger. Scott wagged his tail, overly ecstatic.  
“THAT’S SO COOL!!” his slightly raspy voice rang out. I giggled a bit and picked up another stone, then skipped it across the lake’s surface. I knew he was staring at me, and I knew that it would ruin the moment for him if I looked at him, so I kept gazing off into the distance. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I could see that his cheeks were bright green and his eyes were wide with admiration.  
Although I wasn’t into him, it didn’t bother me that he was into me. He grew out of it eventually, though.

7th grade and 8th grade were fairly similar, but some events during those years changed the lives of both Scott and me forever.


	8. The 7th Grade Dance

—  
March 27, 1994  
—

Middle schoolers tend to be some of the most brutally honest, cruel, and malicious beings in the world. Many teen girls would break the hearts of various teen boys without batting an eye, and some would even make those boys out to be the evil ones. Rumors, false accusations, bullying. All the traits of most middle school kids, at least at the one I attended.

“What’s up, losers?!” a boy called over to Scott and me. Scott looked away from them sheepishly and I let out a sigh of discontentment.  
“Wh-What do y-you want, H-Harlow?” I asked, annoyed and somewhat angry.  
“To fight you after school, Stutter.”

Harlow was a rather short German Shepherd with a light brown pelt and a few dark brown spots on his arms and face. He had hazel eyes, and he had short chocolate-brown hair. Harlow was fairly strong, though, but I still had a chance to win if I had ever fought him.

“G-Go home, H-Harlow,” I responded. The boy flipped my chair around and grabbed me by the collar of my light blue button-up shirt.  
“Piece of fucking shit, I’ll kill you right here and right now!!”  
By this time, some students screamed and all eyes were on the two of us. Harlow bared his teeth in a snarl while I simply smirked.  
“Y-you wanna r-risk th-that??” I mumbled softly. He only snarled even more, clutching my shirt even tighter.  
“Fuck you!!”  
“Whoa, m-man, I-I didn’t know y-you wanted m-me THAT b-badly!!” I replied somewhat quietly. He dropped me, clearly disgusted at the remark, then stormed off with his friends.

I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist after I stood up.  
“You’re so brave, Rocky!!” Scott exclaimed. I couldn’t see him, but I knew his tail was wagging.  
“S-Scott…” I mumbled, implying that the students were all still watching me. The fox backed away quickly, flustered and embarrassed.  
“Sorry!! S-sorry….”  
“It’s o-okay.”

That evening was the 7th grade dance. Everyone was dressed up in fancy dresses and formal suits.  
I wore a white suit. The tie, the blazer, everything was white, all except for the icy-colored periwinkle boutonnière clipped to my suit.  
Scott arrived soon after me, wearing something rather unique. A blazer, the same as mine, only his was black and was decorated with a daffodil boutonnière. He wore a black button-up shirt and a black tie, but he also wore a black skirt that matched perfectly with everything he was wearing. He looked nervous upon arriving to the dance, and everyone stared at him.

“I-I should go back home and change—”  
“I-I think y-you look just f-fine,” I mumbled. Scott blushed and looked down at the ground.  
“Thank you…. You’re the best friend I could’ve ever asked for….”

We had fun, actually. Some couples left to go make out in private places, which left more room to dance and have fun.  
Scott was enjoying himself. He twirled and danced and laughed, and so did I. We had not a care in the world.

“Watch it, pansy!!” Harlow’s voice rang out.  
“I-I said I was sor– AGH!!”  
The music stopped, and, once again, all eyes were on Scott, Harlow, and me.  
“B-back away f-from h-him, NOW!!” I shouted. Harlow shot me a disgusted look.  
“This school has no room for pansies like you two.”  
“I-I’m not g-gay, H-Harlow.”  
“Then what are you?! Because you’ve never had a girlfriend and you always hang out with this skirt-wearing fa– EUGH!!”  
As soon as my fist landed on Harlow’s cheek, the world seemed to go silent. The boy landed on the ground, then cried out in pain. The force from the punch broke his jaw, causing his mouth to gape open.  
I took a step forward to finish the job, but the warm embrace from my best friend pulled me back into reality. Scott grabbed my hand and ran out of the front doors, pulling me along with him. He picked his skirt up so he could run faster.  
We ended up near a small creek about half a mile away from the school. The fox crouched down, panting and coughing while I did the same.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” he screamed, clutching me by the collar of my shirt.  
“I-I didn’t m-mean t-to—”  
“DON’T DO THAT AGAIN!!”  
Scott was now on top of me, sitting just above my pelvis. I had never felt that way before, and I never said anything.  
“I-I w-won’t….”  
Scott soon realized that he was sitting on me in a rather suggestive manner, so he stood up and walked over to a tree.  
“S-Scott, I t-truly am s-sorry….”  
His arms wrapped around my waist, as that’s as high as he could reach. The fox simply cried into my suit, and I ran my fingers through his hair gently.

I walked him home later that night. He clung onto my arm the entire way.  
“G-good night, S-Scott…” I said as we came up to his house.  
“Good night, Rocky…” Scott replied. He hesitated, then he grabbed my tie and pulled me down and kissed my cheek. His lips were soft and dainty, just like the rest of him. He walked into his house, leaving me stunned outside.

I thought about that kiss for 2 months, but I slowly stopped caring that much. I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if I kept caring….


	9. The Winter Ball

—  
December 20, 1994  
—

“Rockyyyyy!! C’mon!!”  
“N-No, I already t-told you I’m n-not g-going!!”  
“Pleeeeease?!” Scott insisted, tugging at my sleeve. The wind blew through our hair and fur as we walked down the back trail behind Scott’s house beyond the trees. We were entirely hidden from the world in this serene place.  
“What d-do I get out of th-this, then??” I asked, somewhat annoyed. The fox pulled me down by my scarf close to his face.  
“Remember when I kissed your cheek and you stood outside my house for five extra minutes before you left??”  
I felt my face start to burn, so I pulled myself away from him and pulled my scarf up over the bottom half of my face.  
“Sh-shut up….”  
“You liked it!! Ha!! You liked it, you liked it!!” he chanted cheerfully. I looked at him, annoyed, but my emotion quickly changed when I saw him bouncing around happily. A pounding in my chest made it impossible to think of anything but the cheerful, flamboyant fox in front of me. My face began to burn again, and I hadn’t realized that my eyes were no longer on his face.

“R-Rocky…? M-my eyes are up here….”  
“Wh-what— OH!! S-Sorry!!”  
Scott smiled a bit, flustered and somewhat happy. We just kept walking for another hour before I went back to my house.

That night was another school dance: The Winter Ball. Scott convinced me to go with him… as his “date”. As if it wasn’t bad enough that students hated us because Scott is gay and I’m his only friend. Now they had full proof that both of us were gay, even though I’m not.  
Scott is feminine, and he even sounds somewhat like a woman. His slender figure, his larger hips…. Everything about him is feminine. Those soft lips, and those dainty, small hands…. It wasn’t my fault….

Once again, I arrived first. I wore the same suit, but with a pastel blue button-up shirt and a blue dahlia boutonnière clipped to my suit.  
“Sorry I’m late!!” Scott’s voice rang out behind me. Every voice was silent.  
I turned around to see the little fox completely dolled-up. A light blue-and-white dress, a white choker, and a white lily tucked neatly behind his ear in his blonde hair. There was a bit of white eyeshadow above his eyes and his nails were painted white.  
“GAY!!” a student shouted from within the crowd. Everyone laughed at him, and I watched as the light faded from my best friend’s eyes.

I believe one of the most painful feelings is watching someone you hold so dearly to your heart lose the hope and passion in their eyes right in front of you.

I walked over to Scott, who was no longer smiling and happy, then I crouched down and grabbed his delicate hands gently.  
“Y-you’re s-so strong…. A-and….”  
“Why are you still here, Rocky…?”  
“Huh…?  
“Why are you still my friend…? All you get from being around me is pain and hurt….”  
“And? S-So what if other p-people judge us?”  
Scott began to regain some hope in his large eyes as he gazed into mine.

“Y-You all have s-secrets y-you’d never w-want a-anyone t-to know, s-so why judge p-people who are b-brave enough t-to r-reveal theirs?!” I shouted at the crowd around us. No one made a single sound.

Scott and I never attended the ball that night. Instead, I took him to the ice cream shop down the road, and we shared a bowl of strawberry ice cream, which is his favorite.  
“You look stunning, darling,” the woman behind the counter said to Scott. He smiled and thanked her.

After we finished the ice cream, I took my blazer off and wrapped it around his shoulders before we started walking to his house. The coat was rather large on him, but I found that cute.

We arrived at his front porch, and he turned to face me.  
“G-good night, S-Sco—”  
Before I knew what was going on, the fox grabbed my tie and pulled me down into a kiss, only this time it wasn’t on my cheek.  
His soft, warm lips pressed up against mine, and after a few moments shock, I gave in and pressed my lips up against his. We stood on his porch, kissing each other for what seemed like hours before he finally pulled away. I stumbled forwards a little, not wanting to let go of him.  
“R-Rocky, I have to go inside—”  
“N-None c-can know about us…” I mumbled softly, still hunched over. Scott smiled slyly.  
“Would you trust a fox to keep a secret for you?? ~”  
“S-Scott, p-please….”  
“Of course I won’t tell anyone, they’ll eat us up alive if they ever found out about us…” he said cutely. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but he just blushed and backed away from me. A sweet scent began to fill the air, and I knew his thoughts.  
“W-we’re t-to young, S-Scott….”  
“I-I know, it’s was just a thought…!! S-Sorry….”  
I pulled him into a gentle hug, and he wrapped his arms around me, gripping the back of my shirt.  
“R-Remember when y-you asked if I-I like you…?” I whispered.  
“Yeah…?”  
“I-I love you, S-Scott….”  
“I love you, too, Rocky….”

I laid in my bed that night, my fingers up against my lips and my eyes closed, the memory of Scott kissing me replaying over-and-over again in my mind until I fell asleep. No one ever knew about us for a long time. A very very long time….


	10. 8th Grade Promotion

—  
May 1, 1995  
—

The final day of our middle school years had begun. Students wore purple-and-black capes for their promotion, each cape tailored to the specific bodies of each student. A wonderful sight to see, though it only meant there would be 4 months without being bullied for Scott and me.

“Rodger, there you are!! I was looking for you everywhere!!” Scott’s soft and cheery voice called out to me. His paws made cute “pat-pat” noises as he ran up to me and delivered a massive hug.  
“S-Scotty, y-you look a-amazing…” I mumbled in his ear.  
“So do you, Rocky…” he muttered in response before pulling himself away from me. The music started to play and we both perked our ears up.  
“May all the promoting students please come to the stage?” the principal’s voice boomed out. She was an older woman, and although she was a field mouse, she had the bravery of an eagle or a lion.

The speech was long, and my legs grew tired. Scott’s delicate legs had started to shake just as the speech ended.  
“Oh thank God, now we can go home…” he groaned. The boy looked so very tired, and I wanted to carry him home so badly….

“Scott, it’s time to go home!!” his mother called over to him.  
“Coming!!” he called back, then he looked me up and down.  
“Wh-what…??”  
“I’m proud of you!!”  
“What??”  
“I’m proud of you, Rocky!! You’ve made it so far!!”  
I stood there and smiled as he ran over to his parents. He’s always been so lovely….


	11. The Summer of ‘95

—  
June 5, 1995  
—

“Do you ever look at the stars and wonder what’s beyond them…?”  
“N-not really….”  
“You’re boring, baby…!!”  
“B-but I’m y-your boring b-baby…. ~”  
“Mhm, that’s right…. ~”

Scott and I laid on a blanket in the field near where I lived, cuddling each other under the starry sky. His small, dainty fingers gripping my shirt while I ran my own fingers through his soft, fluffy hair.  
It was a cool night, and only the soothing sounds of trees rustling in the wind could be heard, until Scott spoke up.  
“Rocky, what are you gonna do when you’re older??”  
“W-Well, I-I was h-hoping t-to do y-you— h-hey!!” I said, though he cut me off with a gentle and playful slap.  
“That’s not what I meant, dork!!”  
“I-I know, haha!!”  
We laid in silence while I thought for a moment.  
“A-A surgeon….”  
“Really?! I wanna be a nurse and a drag queen— ah, oops…. I said too much…” he said, covering his mouth. I carefully pulled his paw away from his mouth and held it.  
“Y-You’ll make a l-lovely drag qu-queen, m-my dear…. ~”  
I pulled him up to my face and kissed him softly.

The summer of ‘95 was a short one, or so it felt like it with the amount of stargazing and soft kissing there was. Time flew by so fast….


	12. Freshman Don’t Have It Easy

—  
September 25, 1995  
—

10 days had passed since Scott and I began our Freshman year of high school. He was now a year older, making him 14, the same as I was.  
The halls weren’t crowded much, but the occasional shoulder-bump was unavoidable. No one bullied each other, and everyone was fairly calm.

“Rocky, what d’ya wanna be when you’re older??”  
“A s-surgeon.”  
“Maybe we can work at the same hospital, then!!” Scott replied with a cheery gasp.  
“Wh-What…??”  
“I wanna be a nurse…. Oo, and a drag queen!!”  
“A-A drag q-queen, huh…?? S-Sounds lovely….”  
“Mhm!! And,” he began as he leaned over to whisper in my ear, “you get private performances, that is if you want them…. ~”  
I felt my face start to burn. Fortunately for me, we were sitting away from all other students.  
“S-Scott…!!”  
“What??”  
“N-Not while w-we’re at s-school…!! A-And while w-we’re this y-young…!!”  
“Mhm, okay dear,” he said softly. He has an Eldrichian accent*.

Medical class was the last class of the day. Coincidentally, Scott was in the same class as I was, and in the seat next to mine at the back of the class. Although the class itself was fun, the work was not. 2 pages due every single day, on top of our work for other classes, resulting in a total of 3 full hours of schoolwork every afternoon leading into evening. It was rough.  
“You’re a Freshman, just wait until you become a Senior,” I had been told by an upperclassman. He didn’t take the same classes as I had.

Freshman don’t have it easy. They might have at some point, but not anymore. Putting an emotional and physical strain on young students who are just trying to earn a letter and make their parents happy. They won’t ever use most of the knowledge later in their lives, so why do they have to push themselves, breaking their minds and their hearts for knowledge they’ll forget within 5 years of graduating? It’s not right…. It never will be….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sounds like an Irish accent


	13. Art Class

—  
November 18, 1995  
—

No one sang to me except Scott, who never forgot my birthday. I turned 15, and the world didn’t change at all.

“Rocky, come over to my house after school,” Scott insisted, tugging on my sleeve. A cold autumn breeze sent shivers down our spines. Winter was nearing, and autumn was fading away.  
“Wh-What f-for??”  
“Art class, but a special art class,” he mumbled softly so no one else heard him but me. I felt my face grow warm as a few thoughts ran through my mind. I was 15, you can’t blame a 15-year-old boy for having dirty thoughts about his boyfriend.

After school that day, Scott and I walked to his house. A cozy cabin just inside the woods.  
“Y’know… my parents aren’t home. ~”  
“S-SCOTT–!!”  
Before I could say anything, his hand was over my mouth. I felt excessive warmth in more than one place on my body, I remember. The small red fox lead me through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom rather quickly. I hope you won’t take me for a… well, I won’t write THAT word in here…. Don’t take this next part horribly. I am talking about myself after all.

Scott sat me down on his bed, and that was when I noticed that my pants had grown remarkably tight.  
“Well, that’s not what I brought you here for, baby,” Scott giggled, pointing towards my crotch. I covered the area up with my hands and a blanket before looking down at the ground, embarrassed and nervous. Not the normal emotions one would associate with a person like me.

He ruffled my hair and I looked up at him. He looked somewhat manly, despite his large, curious eyes. His blonde hair was a little messy, and his argyle sweater made his look all the more dominant. I fell for him all over again.  
“I brought you here to show you some things I’ve been working on, Rocky….”  
He held up a green dress with feathers and some glitter.  
“Wh-Whose is th-that–??”  
“Mine…. I-I wanna be a drag queen, I just wanted your opinion on these before I go and do anything….”  
He was too young, but I still applauded at every dress he walked out in. He even did some basic makeup for each outfit.  
He looked cute in those dresses…. And I’m so proud of him for making every dress he wears….


	14. Theatre Class

—  
December 5, 1995  
—

Theatre, whether it’s musical or not, is one of the greatest art forms to ever exist. Having the ability to act as though fiction is reality so well that the audience feels that reality as well is astounding. Taking that class for all 4 years of high school was one of the best decisions I have ever made, but also one of the worst.

“You,” the teacher said, pointing at me.  
“M-Me?”  
“Yes, you.”  
“I-Is s-something wr-wrong?”  
“No, you got the lead role, that’s all!!”  
My heart pounded even faster than it had been before, both from the nervousness and the overwhelming excitement I felt. I got the lead role in the musical we were performing.  
I played the lead role, a shy boy who broke his arm while climbing a tree. This character faked a friendship with another boy who killed himself and the character I played lost everything he ever loved and cared about, but he was forgiven by everyone in the end.

“Rocky, guess what?!”  
“Wh-What??”  
“I GOT THE SECOND LEAD ROLE!!” Scott exclaimed as we left the school. My short, grey-and-white tail wagged with joy and my ears perked up.  
“R-REALLY?!”  
“YES!!”  
We both held each other’s’ hands and jumped up and down with excitement like 2 girl best friends when a cute boy notices them.

Scott spent the night at my house after we convinced my foster parents that “We’re just gonna study the script and then have a boys’ sleepover afterwards.”  
We did study the script, and we highlighted our lines while reading them out loud to each other. We didn’t have a boys’ sleepover, or at least a “normal” one.

“Hey, Rocky…?” Scott mumbled in my ear. His groggy voice made me even more tired than I already had been.  
“Y-yes…?”  
“I love you….”  
“I-I love y-you, t-too…” I replied softly, then I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him closer to me. His warm body pressed up against my side and he fell asleep quickly, his hand resting on my chest. It was at this time that I noticed how buff he was. Scott’s biceps were nearly twice as large as mine, as were the rest of his muscles. He was still shorter than me, but I was lanky and thin while he was somewhat buff and strong.

The play came and went as quickly as a snowball thrown in a snowball fight. It went great, and I got a lot of praise, and so did Scott. Scott played my character’s best friend, and he was amazing at it. He’s always belonged on the stage, really…. But musical theatre, and theatre in general, wasn’t the stage he ended up turning to eventually. He was passionate about theatre, but theatre paved the way to his true passion….


End file.
